Is It Wrong For A Spartan To Fight In A Dungeon?

(A/N:

I'm alive.

Well, this is awkward. Here I am, after being MIA for so long, and instead of updating any other story, I'm making another.

Honestly, I have no excuse, except that Japan, as nice as it is, the work here has me running ragged.

But enough of that, I'm getting back into the writing groove, so I should be able to update when I have the chance, so please be patient.

As always, please read and review. If anyone has any questions/comments/concerns, please PM me so we could discuss it (without any spoilers, of course)).

Chapter 1:

"Move—Ugh!" The plasma bolt seared through his side as he took the hit.

"John!"

Gunfire, followed by the crunching of bones underneath a boot.

"I—I'm alright… It's just a flesh wound…" A weak chuckle, a futile attempt to hide the pain he was in. "…That's twice now, Sam."

"…Idiot. I told you already, a queen doesn't sacrifice everything to save a pawn!"

"And I told you too, that it doesn't matter. All the pieces go back in the same box when the game is done…"

He would make sure no one would die today.

"Three minutes, that'll give us just enough time to get topside and get away." He turned towards them. "I'll hold them off as you get away, get moving, that's an order."

"What are you talking about?"

"…Think you can handle this?"

A nod. Before revealing the burn that had breached his suit. The blackened hole the size of a fist revealing the charred skin underneath. "I'll manage."

"That's nothing. We'll get you patched up in no time. Once we get back—" A sudden dawn of dreaded realization.

"Exactly," Was the strained whisper. "Getting back is going to be tough for him."

"…We don't have a way to seal it…"

A shake of the head, a desperate attempt to ignore the situation.

"If I leave, the decompression will kill me." He cocked his weapon. "Get moving. You don't have much time."

"No. No—everyone gets out alive. We don't leave teammates behind."

He had to smile underneath his helmet; it was a bitter one. He hit the timer. "It's decided. Get going, you two."

Sam tightly squeezed his hand.

Kelly moved towards a salute, hesitated, and gripped his shoulder. He realized her hand was trembling ever so.

He turned. "…Move it, Spartans. Don't look back."

And then they were gone.

As he was met with the onslaught of aliens, grimacing as he took hits as he held them off. Eventually, he collapsed, his body burning from his growing injuries.

He glanced at the timer.

0:03…

0:02…

0:01…

"Goodbye," He hoarsely whispered.

Even if he couldn't keep to his original intent, he was still somewhat glad of the outcome.

No one had died under his command, and that was all he could really ask for.

0:00.

Then, in the next instant, his world was consumed in a blinding light.

In the Dungeon of Ortario.

A monster bellows.

A scream echoes.

A sharp blade cuts right in at the last moment.

And as he would graciously stand over this cute girl collapsed on the ground— her eyes staring at him with unshed tears…

The faint hints of a new love would appear.

The things any boy yearning for a hero's adventures would yearn of:

Traveling with cute girls.

Hanging out with beautiful ladies from other species.

Isn't it only natural for such a boy to develop some crooked and immature ideas?

And for him to try to pick up girls while in the Dungeon?

"HHHHHHHHRRRRAAAAAAHHHHH!"

"U-UWAAAAAAH!?"

So why was it like this!?

Bell Cranel wasn't stupid; he knew of the risks of danger associated with becoming an adventurer. Everyone, including his sponsor and goddess, knew of this and warned him of so.

The stories his grandfather had told him and all the books he had read warned him.

The traveling adventurers passing through his farm had their fair share of stories as well.

The Dungeon had knocked him around plenty of times, but he made sure to keep a level head and remained cautious. He fought and remained on floors until he was comfortable enough to move down another floor. It was the way he kept to for months, and today he felt he was ready to enter the fifth floor now.

The monsters were definitely stronger here, that was for sure. Bell kept going, tired but not defeated, fighting hard to gain more experience and more rewards.

…Then a minotaur showed up on the fifth floor, something that he shouldn't have seen until the fifteenth.

It was fast, powerful. Its hide too thick to cut with his blade, the cleaver it held around broke down the walls and made the very earth quake with each swing. It was used more like a hammer than a blade.

Bell desperately tried to run from it, but it pursued him endlessly. He fought through his preexisting exhaustion, and it was only through sheer luck that he was able to avoid its strikes.

Eventually, his luck ran out, and he ran to a dead end. A single stomp sent him collapsing onto his back, his body too worn out to do nothing more than tremble and crawl away.

Still, with tears in his eyes as he watched the cleaver rise over the minotaur's head, he meekly brought up his own blade to bear. Defiant until the end in front of the beast.

At another time, someone, a woman, would save him. The minotaur had fled from a high-ranking adventurer party after all. She would have followed closely after it, killed it, and saved him.

But she was just a few minutes behind and would not make it in time.

The minotaur bellowed its triumph, swinging the cleaver down.

Bell squeezed his eyes closed and screamed.

…And a sharp blade cut in right at the last moment.

The minotaur gurgled; its attack halted at the spearhead emerging from its throat before it was dragged down its body. It ripped itself through its groin before coming upwards once more to tear through the head at blinding speeds, completely bisecting it.

As the two pieces of the minotaur slid apart, gore exploded from it, drenching Bell with its contents.

"Hey, you alright?"

Realizing he was still alive, Bell opened his eyes and gazed at the golden faceplate of his savior.

"…"

The green armored man shifted slightly at his silence, his worn Salamander cloak fluttering somewhat from the action. Fresh blood continued to drip from the tip of his spear.

"Th…"

"?"

"THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SAVING ME!"

"!?"

After a few moments of having a bloodsoaked Bell cry at his feet while spewing thanks unintelligibly, the armored man was able to pry him away with a slight huff.

"Don't do that," He muttered before reaching down and removing the magic stone from the slowly disintegrating Minotaur's corpse. "Here."

"Eh?" Bell let out a small cry of surprise as he was handed the large stone. "B-but this is yours! You killed it after all!"

The man twirled his spear with a single hand, flicking the blood off it. "You gave me an opportunity. Nice work. Though, you should probably head back to the guild."

With that he turned and began to walk away, deeper into the Dungeon.

"W-wait!" Bell cried out, relieved when his savior paused. "What's y-your name?"

The armored man shifted his head slightly, letting him see the golden faceplate once more.

"...Hal…"

And then he was gone.

"Hal-san," Clutching the crystal in his hands tightly, he yelled into the darkness of the Dungeon. "Thank you so much!"

Then a beautiful blond woman in silver armor flashed in front of him, shocking him.

"E-EHHHH?!"

"Eiiiinaaaaa-saaaan!"

Relief filled Eilla Tulle as she heard her young charge come through the door, having lived another day in the Dungeon. To her Bell Cranel was too young of a boy to be an adventurer, but the laws were the laws. As long as they could pick up a blade, they could be part of a familia and become an adventurer. Didn't stop her from drilling as much information into him as she possibly can.

Still, it wasn't enough for her to stop worrying and stressing over him when he was gone. Many adventurers before him have come and gone, often meeting brutal ends with the only thing retrievable being their equipment.

She desperately hoped he wouldn't be one of them.

So, as she felt her body calm at the sound of his voice, she put away her paperwork, adjusted her clothing, and smiled as she turned to face the young boy.

"Eiiiinaaaa-saaaaan!"

She wasn't the only one to scream in shock at the sight of his bloodstained appearance.

What in the hell happened to him while he was down there?!

And Gods, the smell…

"Eina-san!" The boy, despite his morbid appearance, came to her with a fiery optimism in his eyes. "Please tell me what you know of the adventurers Ains Wallenstein and Hal!"

Eina adjusted her glasses. "…Bell-kun, listen to me. You shouldn't go around covered in blood like that. Please take a shower first!"

"Hal-san," One thing that always surprised a bit him was how Japanese customs and titles had transferred over to this world. Of all things, why Japanese? "Oi, Hal-san. You paying attention?! Quit wandering off in thought!"

Hal shifted; how could she tell? Was it one of those 'women intuition things' he learned about in these past years? He still had plenty to learn it seemed. "Hm. I'm listening, Rose."

The werewolf receptionist narrowed her golden eyes at him, doubtful, but continued anyways. "I keep telling you, you can't just keep going further into the Dungeon without the proper level, or at least with a damn party! The twenty-eighth floor and below are too dangerous for someone like you to go by yourself, even if you are a level three!"

"Mhm."

She sighed, aggrieved by the armored man's nonchalance. "Keep it up, and I'll revoke your license, damnit."

"…Sorry, I'll be more careful next time."

Rose rolled her eyes. "Right. Anyways, this isn't for me as much as it is for you. You hadn't leveled up in a while, which is weird given how quickly you did when you first arrived here, before the… incident."

Hal just stared at her, and the only other response she got was the sound of leather creaking as he clenched his dory spear tightly. He didn't need the reminder.

"…It'll be best if you can level up soon, it'll put my mind at ease, and I'm sure it'll help your new deity's peace of mind too."

"…I'll keep that in mind. Thanks. Is there anything else?"

Rose sighed. "I suppose that's the best I'll get out of you then. Oh yeah, Eina-san said some kid came in asking about you, some Bell Cranel fellow. Also, the Apollo and Ganesha familia's offered another invitation for you. I know how loyal you are to your deity, so at the very least, see if you can form a party with them."

"…Got it. I'll see you next week Rose."

She watched him as Hal left the guild. His footsteps, regardless of the weight of the equipment and chainmail he carried, were silent. She sighed, rubbing her forehead slightly. "…Goddamn fool…"

Hal wandered past the streets of Orario in silence. The town, even at night, was still bursting with energy, as already he could see other adventurers drunk on alcohol and food. Some were celebrating another victory at surviving another round at the Dungeon, while others drowned down their sorrows at losing a party member.

Just another night, but still one Hal found himself not used to. Even after waking up in this world almost three years ago.

For the first time in a while, he thought back to his home, to where he was raised. Of the snowy mountains, vast forests, and dangerous wildlife.

Of his family that he left behind.

Of a war, he would never finish…

Hal sighed, ignoring the catcalls of various Amazonian women as he entered the Red Light District of Orario. They knew better than to approach him, though. Like a dutiful cadence, his spear thumped on the ground as he walked, alerting anyone that was in his way. Many of them were quick to move, while others stared at him with glassy eyes, too far in the alcohol to make any coherent sense of the giant man walking down the road.

He ignored them all, entering a run-down, abandoned building at the end of it all. There were no lights on inside, and vegetation was beginning to crawl on the side of the building.

Hal ignored it and walked inside without a word, silence greeting him. Even in the dark, he was able to see everything clearly. As opposed from the outside, the interior was well taken care of, not a speck of dust to be seen. Everything was cleaned and organized.

He hung up his cloak and unbuckled his shield, removing the several pouches of valis he had made from his adventuring as he did so. He emptied them onto the coffee table, sitting down on the nearby couch as he removed his short sword from his belt, his spear leaned against his side. As he counted his current currency, he took out a ration and began nibbling on it, pushing his helmet up enough to expose his mouth.

The sound of coins clinking against another was the only noise resounding in the house as time passed. By the time he was done, it was already past midnight.

Three-hundred thousand valis, He thought with a slight frown at the relatively small amount he made, given the floors he was on. That would be somewhat enough for current repairs for his armor and weapons, maybe an Elixir or two if he was conservative enough with it.

Still, it wouldn't be enough for a good-

A creak of wood.

Hal's head snapped to the hallway that led to the bedrooms, his stomach churning for a moment as he looked for any movement.

…

…

Nothing. Like always.

He settled his grip on his spear and leaned it against his side once more, staring at the hallway.

For a moment, he wanted to get up, approach the rooms and check inside to see if they would be in bed just like bef-

Stop it. The rooms are empty. They're all gone.

Hal dropped his gaze towards the coins sitting on the table, staring at the sigil under them. The sigil of a familia.

He was the only one in the house. Like it always has been for the past year. No one else would be back to this place except him.

Deciding he was done for the day, he packed away the coins. Hal removed his greaves and vambraces and threw a blanket over himself as he laid on the couch. He knew the house had extra beds, even one that was explicitly meant for him, but he would never enter those bedrooms. Never again.

After all…

With his helmeted head facing the ceiling, spear by his side, Hal slowly dozed to sleep.

It was just him…